


Spring, Summer, Fall

by longleggedgit



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some relationships take longer to figure out than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring, Summer, Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Весна, Лето, Осень](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245201) by [Huzpanit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huzpanit/pseuds/Huzpanit)



> This was written for fandomaid over at LJ and user fond_of_pin, who very generously donated even more than the asking amount to Typhoon Haiyan relief! <3 I hope this fic is something like what you were wanting, Dorothe; it got a little unwieldy for a bit there, but I think I'm satisfied with the final product. A big thank you to Traci for the beta as usual. <3 The title is from Taeyang's [I'll Be There,](http://youtu.be/zBwdFsDUisQ) which felt appropriate, and for those who might now know, [this](http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a295/ilovelifeforms/Linds/soohyuk.jpg) is Lee Soohyuk (and I'll eat my hat if he and GD didn't have a thing at one point). Thanks so much again for your generous donation and your patience, Dorothe!

Soohyuk throws a magazine at Jiyong while he's in the middle of rolling a joint and Jiyong pauses to glare at him, letting the magazine slide off his lap and onto the floor, since his hands are otherwise occupied. 

"Your boyfriend confessed his love to you again," Soohyuk says by way of explanation, picking up the magazine and folding it back to a page with a bent corner, featuring a photo of Jiyong and Youngbae from the set of Ringa Linga. 

"The fuck are you talking about," Jiyong says, lifting the joint to lick the paper closed and glancing sideways at the article. 

Soohyuk pulls the magazine toward him and clears his throat before beginning to read. "'Jiyong and I have a special relationship. It's like we're made for each other. I feel like I should marry someone like him.'"

Jiyong licks the paper one final time, then holds it in the air between them until Soohyuk digs a lighter out of his pocket.

"We're close," Jiyong says, watching as Soohyuk sets the paper on fire, waiting for it to burn down. "We've always been close."

"He's obsessed with you," Soohyuk says.

"He's not." Jiyong takes the first drag and then hands it to Soohyuk, who follows suit.

"He is," Soohyuk says after a pause, through a mouthful of smoke. "Even his style lately. It's like he's trying to be you."

Normally Jiyong would tell Soohyuk to fuck off, but something makes him go quiet. He stares at the magazine, still rolled up in Soohyuk's hand, and thinks.

"When's the wedding gonna be?" Soohyuk asks as he hands back the joint.

"Jealousy is really unattractive on you," Jiyong says smoothly, and after his next drag he blows the smoke directly in Soohyuk's face.

From there they dissolve into messy making out and, later, even messier fucking on the couch. After Soohyuk leaves, Jiyong finds the magazine again, bent and torn from getting trapped underneath them and between two cushions. He opens it back up to the page with Youngbae's interview and tries to focus on the words, but he's high and pretty quickly forgets what he was looking for. 

 

In the dance studio on Monday, Jiyong watches Youngbae flirting with one of the coordi-noonas and gnaws unhappily at a hangnail. They're rehearsing for Tokyo, and Youngbae is lively to the point of being almost manic, laughing and jostling the girl in a way that's annoying the living shit out of Jiyong. The coordi-noona seems receptive enough, though, giggling and batting playfully at Youngbae's shoulder. Girls have been more receptive to Youngbae lately than they used to be. Youngbae's eyes cut over to Jiyong, almost as if he's seeking some kind of congratulations for hitting on somebody they work with, and Jiyong can't help the unimpressed stare he sends back. Then one of the backup dancers Jiyong has slept with on more than one drunken occasion steps into the studio and starts to stretch, and Jiyong has to guiltily acknowledge he can't really judge.

Something about Youngbae and the noona still leaves a sour taste in Jiyong's mouth, though, and when the choreographer calls for everyone to get into place, he slides in next to Youngbae and can't help the words that simultaneously slide out of his mouth.

"Getting awfully comfortable with the coordi-noonas, aren't you?"

It's obvious from his tone that he doesn't mean it as a compliment, and Youngbae blinks at him in apparent bewilderment, bordering on hurt. Jiyong stares straight ahead at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror and stretches his arms behind his back.

"You're one to talk," Youngbae says, bewilderment transforming into something angrier. 

He never used to talk back, no matter how much Jiyong pushed him. 

Jiyong just shrugs and finishes stretching, and eventually Youngbae looks forward into the mirror too, his expression blank. 

After rehearsal, Jiyong hangs back to flirt with his backup dancer, checking in the mirror to make sure that Youngbae notices. But Youngbae leaves the studio without so much as a backward glance, arm slung around the coordi-noona's shoulders, and Jiyong is the one left behind feeling frustrated and petulant. 

 

When they were both fifteen and killing themselves trying to balance training and studying, Youngbae once burst into Jiyong's room scrubbing tears out of his eyes and slumped to the floor at the foot of Jiyong's bed.

"Hey," Jiyong said, closing the notebook he'd been scrawling lyrics into and scooting across the bedspread so he could look down at Youngbae. "What happened?"

Youngbae was pressing the heels of both palms into his eyes and shaking his head, obviously trying hard not to lose it. Jiyong reached down to stroke his hair.

"I don't know," he mumbled after a few seconds, his shoulders rising with a hiccupping sigh. "I just feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid." Jiyong started to massage Youngbae's scalp instead, as comforting as he knew how, and he smiled to feel Youngbae relax a little under his fingertips.

"I am around girls," Youngbae said. "I can't even talk to them. I'm just. Stupid."

Jiyong had seen Youngbae around girls a few times by now, and he had to admit Youngbae had a point. It seemed like Youngbae's goofy, immature side switched from cute to obnoxious in record time the second a girl their age stepped foot in the same room as them, which had always confused Jiyong. He never really cared much about impressing anyone who wasn't directly involved in making decisions about his future.

"All the other trainees have been teasing me because I haven't kissed anyone yet," Youngbae went on, while Jiyong was still mulling over the problem.

"Who cares what they think," Jiyong said, suddenly fierce. "None of them are gonna make it, anyway. And when we're both famous idols and they're all working at a Family Mart somewhere they'll be sorry."

Youngbae sighed again, but he seemed a little calmer when he looked up to meet Jiyong's gaze. "I guess," he said. Then he smiled. "At least I know you haven't kissed anyone, either."

Jiyong tried to keep his face neutral, but Youngbae knew him too well to be fooled.

"You have?" He twisted around to face Jiyong directly, betrayal reflected in his eyes. Jiyong shifted back on the bed and started to pick feebly at a loose thread on his pillowcase.

"Who? Was it a girl from back home? When did it happen?" 

Jiyong wanted nothing but to change the subject, but Youngbae was obsessed now, climbing onto the bed next to Jiyong so he couldn't escape. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Jiyong kept picking at the thread when he answered, "Because. It wasn't a girl."

He looked up after Youngbae didn't say anything for a solid minute.

"Oh," Youngbae finally replied, cheeks coloring.

They stayed quiet for another minute or two, Jiyong going back to picking at the thread, before Youngbae broke the silence again. 

"But—how did you know?"

Jiyong looked up again, finding Youngbae's cheeks even redder, and frowned. "I just know," he said. Youngbae was the one to eventually get too embarrassed and turn away.

"You've never been unsure about anything," he said, softly, and then he stood up and left, and Jiyong had no idea whether he'd just received a compliment or not.

 

Youngbae calls unexpectedly at 11 on a Friday night, and Jiyong feels guilty that he considers not answering all the way until the fourth ring, at which point he finally gives in.

"What's up?" he says, causing Soohyuk, sitting to his left on the couch, to look up from his dinner of leftover curry.

There's a pause long enough on Youngbae's end that Jiyong pulls the phone away from his face to check that they're still connected. Then Youngbae says, "Hey," and something in his tone makes Jiyong frown and stand, heading to the bedroom for privacy. He doesn't miss the way Soohyuk lifts an inquisitive eyebrow.

Jiyong ignores him and closes the bedroom door. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Youngbae sounds drunk, which would have surprised Jiyong a year ago but doesn't so much anymore—he's drinking more heavily these days than he used to.

"Okay," Jiyong says, not believing him for a second but unwilling to play a guessing game. "Then what's up?"

"I was just thinking—" Youngbae stops for a second, like he wants to rethink his wording, and starts again. "I haven't seen your new place yet."

Jiyong is about to argue before he realizes it's true; his new apartment is high security, difficult to access, and only a handful of people have been inside since he moved a few months ago. Most of them have been one-night stands.

"Oh," Jiyong says at length. ". . . I actually have someone over right now."

"Oh."

Youngbae doesn't hazard a guess or ask who Jiyong is with, and for some reason that makes Jiyong feel worse. Soohyuk and Jiyong aren't anything like boyfriends, but they've been spending a lot of time together lately. Youngbae has probably noticed, but he hasn't said anything; he never comments much on Jiyong's romances. 

"Uh, we can plan for something a little later—like, next week maybe—"

"Don't worry about it," Youngbae says quickly. "I'll talk to you later." He sounds much less vulnerable suddenly, more closed off.

There was a time when Jiyong would never let a conversation with Youngbae end this way, but he finds he has no idea what to say right now to make it better. Something awkward and twisted is growing between them and Jiyong doesn't know where it came from or how to make it go away. He says "Sorry" and hangs up, and then feels so disgusted with himself he has to sit gnawing at his nails for a few moments before heading back to the living room. Soohyuk regards him, both eyebrows raised now, but seems to know better than to comment.

When they fuck that night, it's fast and hard and a little angry, to the point that it doesn't even feel very good. It's already three by the time they're done, and Jiyong knows he should invite Soohyuk to stay over, but he never does and Soohyuk never asks.

 

Jiyong had his heart broken for the first time at seventeen, and he hated himself for how weak it made him. He pushed through dance practice and voice lessons and tutoring without breaking, holding himself together by sheer force of will, but with every passing day he could feel his strength pulling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. He didn't think anyone could tell. Then, six days after the thirty-year-old who had fucked him for the first time told him they couldn't see each other anymore because he had a wife and kids to think about, Jiyong went out back behind the dorms for a smoke and found his solitude interrupted. 

"That guy did something to you, didn't he." Youngbae appeared from behind Jiyong, who was perched with his cigarette on a curb, quietly and without warning, and Jiyong had to quickly swipe his sleeve across his eyes.

He didn't say anything, in part because he hadn't realized Youngbae knew. Youngbae lowered himself to the curb at Jiyong's right.

"You shouldn't be smoking," he said after a moment.

"Shut up," Jiyong said.

He finished his cigarette and then snuffed out the butt with his shoe, and without something to focus his attention on he became fidgety and irritable, wishing Youngbae would just leave him alone. He sniffed and wiped his eyes again.

"I don't know much about it," Youngbae said, and Jiyong had to use all the self control he possessed to not snap _Yeah, you fucking don't, so why don't you fuck off already_. "But I know he was married, and that's not fair."

And Jiyong really did almost snap then, because how dare Youngbae come out here and lecture him, how dare he try to make him feel like a homewrecker or some bullshit when he doesn't even _know_ —

"It's not fair to you," Youngbae clarified, and the angry rant building up in Jiyong's head died before it could reach his mouth. "You deserve someone who's only going to love you."

Jiyong looked at Youngbae for the first time since he'd sat down, and suddenly a different place in his heart was hurting. Youngbae put his arm around Jiyong's shoulders, and Jiyong leaned into it and cried so hard he ended up with snot running down his face. He cried until he ran out of tears and could only gasp and hiccup and sniffle against Youngbae's jacket, and when Youngbae finally led him back inside and to his bed, he drifted off easily for the first time in days.

He never directly thanked Youngbae for it, but he figured maybe Youngbae understood.

 

Jiyong is in a good mood after their third Tokyo Dome concert, which went off without a hitch and filled him with the kind of pride and energy that always reminds him why he got into this business in the first place. He's pleased when someone suggests an outing to a night club—Liquidroom, one of their old Tokyo favorites—and everyone unanimously agrees to go. There was a time when going out for celebratory drinks after a concert was a regular occurrence, but lately everyone has been so exhausted after performances that they generally just go to bed. This is probably a sign they're starting to get old, but Jiyong never likes to think about that possibility for very long, and he dismisses it quickly tonight.

They end up in the largest VIP room at the club in a group of about fifteen, complete with every member of Big Bang, several coordi-noonas, and a few other support staff and back-up performers. Soohyuk is there too—he was going to be in Tokyo anyway for a photoshoot, so Jiyong invited him to their concert, not for the first time. Jiyong is happy enough, sipping on an amaretto sour between Soohyuk and Seungri, until he notices Youngbae and his coordi-noona friend a few seats away, giggling about something and sharing a tall glowing drink complete with two straws. He gulps down the rest of his drink in one angry swallow and elbows Seungri.

"What's the name of the girl who's been hanging all over Youngbae lately?" Jiyong asks.

Seungri can usually be depended on to remember names and gossip. He wrinkles his nose and squints in their direction for a moment before answering, "Mihyun, I think." Then he laughs. "Why? Planning on having her killed?"

Jiyong frowns at the question. "No. What do you mean by that?"

Seungri laughs again. "Only that you've been glaring at her for about three weeks straight."

"I have not," Jiyong snaps.

"Hyung," Seungri calls, leaning across Jiyong and Soohyuk to get Seunghyun's attention. Both Seunghyun and Daesung, who were previously looking at photos on somebody's phone, turn their way. "Remember the year we caught Youngbae and that trainee kissing at Bom's birthday party?"

Both Seunghyun and Daesung burst into riotous laughter in unison. Jiyong feels his neck getting hot and waves over the waitress to order another drink.

"Didn't you have to physically hold Jiyong back until she could escape?" Daesung asks Seunghyun, although he's grinning in Jiyong's direction.

"That's an exaggeration," Jiyong says hotly, but everyone is laughing too loudly to hear him. Everyone except Soohyuk, who merely listens with an unreadable expression on his face and occasionally sips at a whiskey.

"It wasn't as bad as when those rumors started going around about Youngbae and Yuri," Seunghyun snorts. "I don't think they'd even met yet and Jiyong was ready to arrange SNSD's disbandment."

They all dissolve into laughter again and slap Jiyong's back while he scowls and accepts his new drink from the waitress. Then he risks another glance in Youngbae's direction, only to get tripped up when he finds Soohyuk watching him evenly.

"You're very protective," Soohyuk comments, in a tone that could be completely innocuous, except Jiyong knows better. 

Thankfully, Daesung responds before Jiyong has to. "Youngbae's mom told me once that she never worries about Youngbae dating the wrong girl because she'll have to go through Jiyong first," he says, grinning.

"I'm protective of everyone in Big Bang," Jiyong says, in one last attempt to salvage some of his dignity. 

"That's true," Daesung agrees, "but—"

"Youngbae's special," Seunghyun says. Daesung and Seungri both nod.

"You couldn't care less who I date," Seungri adds. 

"Maybe he's just signed you off as a lost cause," Daesung teases, and he and Seunghyun start snickering at Seungri's affected outrage. 

While Seungri's arguing, Jiyong's focus returns to Soohyuk, who is draining the last of his whiskey, and then, because he can't help himself, back to Youngbae. His stomach turns at the sight of Youngbae and Mihyun making out in the booth, ignoring everything and everyone around them. He jolts when Soohyuk's hand suddenly touches his shoulder.

"Bathroom," Soohyuk explains. Jiyong obediently nudges Seungri and they make way for Soohyuk to slip away from the table and out the door. After a few seconds, Jiyong jerks out of the booth and follows him. He takes care not to look directly at either Youngbae or Mihyun when he passes, but he could swear he catches Youngbae glancing up in his peripheral vision.

Soohyuk is at the sink when Jiyong opens the door to the bathroom, and their eyes meet in the mirror as the door swings closed behind him. There's nothing in Soohyuk's face or composure to indicate he's upset, but Jiyong knows Soohyuk shares his ability to wear a mask of cool indifference in almost any situation, regardless of circumstance. It's a skill learned through a lifetime of having cameras trained on you. 

At length, Soohyuk turns so they're facing directly and smiles.

"You look lost," he says.

Jiyong can't reply. He wonders what would happen if he just crossed the space between them, grabbed Soohyuk and started kissing him now—if that would be enough to distract them and they could go on pretending nothing had happened in there, or if it would only make things worse. He settles for an uncertain half-step forward.

Soohyuk's smile falters. "You don't have to look so guilty," he says. "Listen. It's fine. I know this was just fucking around to you. I'm not going to break down crying."

Jiyong furrows his brow, because that's not what he came in here to say and that's not what he was thinking. He does feel guilty, but it's not like he has any real reason to, when they're all so wrong about Youngbae and he's busy sucking on that girl's tongue, anyway. He can't seem to verbalize any of that, though, so he just keeps staring at Soohyuk, who finally laughs.

"They warned me about you, you know," he says.

Finally, Jiyong manages to choke out a word. "Who?"

"Everyone. You've got a reputation." Soohyuk sighs and closes the space between them, surprising Jiyong with a hand on his cheek. He kisses Jiyong in a way that's not passionless, exactly, but feels somehow like a goodbye, and before Jiyong can even lift a hand to touch Soohyuk's neck he's stepping away.

"They told me you were only looking for sex," Soohyuk says, still smiling like this is nothing more than pleasant small talk. "But I think maybe you're looking for something else."

Then he's turning away, reaching for the door, and probably Jiyong should try harder to stop him, but he can only ask, "What?"

Soohyuk pauses with his back to Jiyong. "Let me know if you ever find out," he says, and then he's gone. Jiyong has no idea what answer he was expecting, but the one he got is bitterly unsatisfying.

When he returns to their VIP room, Soohyuk is gone, and so are Youngbae and Mihyun. Seungri wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Jiyong, gesturing toward Youngbae and Mihyun's empty seats, and Jiyong forces a laugh. As soon as the waitress returns, he orders another drink.

 

The second time Jiyong had his heart broken, he was twenty, and Youngbae found him on the floor of his room next to an empty wine bottle, which was almost melodramatic enough to be funny.

"Hey," Youngbae said, bending over Jiyong to touch his shoulder. "You okay?"

Jiyong blinked up at Youngbae, smiled, and lifted a hand to pat his cheek. "I'm fantastic," he said, then laughed, imagining how pathetic he looked.

"Okay, why don't you sit up," Youngbae said, ignoring Jiyong's hand but helping to hoist him off the floor and lean him against his bed. Jiyong let himself be hoisted but immediately plastered himself against Youngbae's side, sliding his hand from Youngbae's cheek down to his neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. 

"Mm. You're warm," Jiyong said. 

Youngbae cleared his throat. "How much did you drink? Just the one bottle?"

"'N something else before that. A shot. Two shots." Jiyong nuzzled in closer because Youngbae really was warm. 

"You're going to kill yourself." There was no bite to Youngbae's words, but he was tense under Jiyong's touch. Jiyong wanted to do something about that. He started stroking up and down Youngbae's shoulder and arm, enjoying the way he could make Youngbae's muscles twitch.

"I'm an idiot," Jiyong sighed, barely a mumble against Youngbae's skin.

Youngbae was starting to relax incrementally, and at that he put a hand in Jiyong's hair and ruffled it a little.

"No you're not. He's an idiot. Whoever he was."

Jiyong laughed again. "'Whoever he was,'" he repeated. "God. You must really think I'm a fuck-up."

"I don't think you're a fuck-up." The words sounded strange coming from Youngbae's mouth; he rarely swore. "I just wish you wouldn't put yourself in a position to get hurt so often."

Something in this accusation made Jiyong frown; it was hard to articulate why, but he tried anyway. "I don't, actually," he said, slow and slurred. "I mean, there's a lot of guys, but they don't mean anything. Mostly they don't mean anything."

"That's kind of what I mean," Youngbae sighed.

Jiyong wasn't listening. "They're not like you," he went on, and the buzzing in his brain told him to keep going, he was doing good. He kissed the pulse of Youngbae's neck and ignored the way it made him go immediately still. "Why aren't any of them like you?" He kissed again.

"Jiyong," Youngbae said. His voice was hovering between a warning and a question, and Jiyong didn't want to acknowledge either one. He shifted with a burst of energy that startled even himself and slid into Youngbae's lap, kissing his lips next, smoothing fingers down his chest.

"Kiss me back," Jiyong ordered fiercely. He grabbed both of Youngbae's hands and arranged them at his waist, then nudged at Youngbae's mouth with his nose.

Youngbae licked his lips, and Jiyong thrilled at the split second when he felt the warmth of Youngbae's tongue. But still he didn't kiss him. "Jiyong," he said again.

Jiyong groaned and lurched forward, sucking Youngbae's bottom lip into his mouth. Youngbae gasped and Jiyong took advantage of it, probing into Youngbae's mouth with his tongue, licking at his tongue and teeth. He grabbed two handfuls of Youngbae's hair and held him fast, sucking and panting and grinding into him, waiting for Youngbae to do anything but tremble and clench his fists in response.

"Please," Jiyong tried when Youngbae still didn't move, and he slowed the grinding of his crotch against Youngbae's stomach to a gentle roll, so Youngbae could feel how hard he was. 

Youngbae looked at Jiyong through half-lidded eyes. "Jiyong, I—"

But Jiyong could see that he wasn't going to say anything he wanted to hear, so he cut him off, kissing Youngbae hard on the mouth again, reaching down between them to palm him through his jeans. Maybe Youngbae was horrified by everything that was happening but he was only human, and it made Jiyong's heart skip a beat to feel his dick stiffen under his touch. He squeezed and stroked and Youngbae's hips jolted hard.

"Let me suck your dick," Jiyong whispered against Youngbae's mouth. "I'm good at it."

Youngbae's eyes closed and he sucked in a sharp breath. Jiyong squeezed harder.

"I'll let you fuck me." He tugged up the hem of Youngbae's shirt with his free hand and splayed fingers across his abdomen, which was tense and blazing hot. Youngbae grabbed his wrist but didn't pull it away.

"They all beg to fuck me." He didn't realize it was the wrong thing to say until Youngbae's grip on his wrist tightened, and then he did pull Jiyong's hand away. 

Jiyong let Youngbae peel him off, and he stayed put on the floor, cheeks burning and blood pounding, while Youngbae stood and caught his breath.

"I'm gonna get you some water," Youngbae said, straightening out his shirt and avoiding Jiyong's eyes. He slipped out the door and Jiyong didn't move a millimeter until he returned.

"Come on." Youngbae offered a hand and Jiyong took it, allowing himself to be pulled upright and guided into bed. Youngbae handed him the glass of water, and Jiyong drank from it as Youngbae untangled the mess of sheets and blankets at the foot of his bed and spread them across his lap.

"Sorry," Jiyong muttered, reclining against the pillows and setting the glass on his bedside table. 

Youngbae tugged the blankets up to his chin and gave him a soft smile. "You'll feel better in the morning," he said, touching Jiyong's cheek. Jiyong lifted a hand to cover Youngbae's but then it was gone, and Youngbae was, too. Jiyong rolled over, buried his face in his hands and prayed he wouldn't remember anything tomorrow.

 

Jiyong senses something is wrong at the New Year's party when Youngbae shows up drunk at 10 o'clock. He's drinking more these days, but not to the extent that he gets wasted and belligerent before the official party has even started. The way he stumbles through the door and almost bowls over the doorman taking jackets doesn't leave much to speculation, however. Jiyong excuses himself from conversation with Seungho and Teddy and makes his way across the long, dimly lit event room YG reserved for the occasion, toward Youngbae, who has wasted no time draping his arms across the shoulders of two female music executives. They don't look upset, exactly, but still they seem grateful when Jiyong appears to draw away Youngbae's attention.

"Jiyong!" Youngbae shouts, peeling himself away from the women and lurching toward him. He trips on nothing and Jiyong darts forward to catch him, sloshing some of his wine on them both in the process.

"Woah," Jiyong says, steadying Youngbae with two hands to his chest. Youngbae just laughs and tilts his face in uncomfortably close.

"Where's the champagne at?" he demands. His breath reeks of something stronger than champagne; vodka, if Jiyong's right, and he usually is.

"You don't need any," Jiyong says. "Come on."

He leads Youngbae to the bathroom, which is thankfully private, with a door that locks. Once they're inside, he takes a clean hand towel from an artfully arranged pyramid next to the sink and wets it under the tap. He focuses on dabbing at the wet wine stain on Youngbae's shirt first, because it's right down the front and more conspicuous, as opposed to the stain on his own shirt, which is luckily limited to his sleeve.

"Seems like you started your own party somewhere else," he says, not bothering to make eye contact.

"Miyung says we should stop seeing each other," Youngbae says, and Jiyong does look up at that.

Youngbae's too drunk, eyes half-closed and hazy, to be able to read much in his expression. Still, Jiyong can hear the hurt in his voice.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"'S fine. There are other girls out there, right?" Youngbae laughs, then twists away from Jiyong's hands on his shirt. "Can I go now?"

Jiyong straightens up and tosses the towel to the used basket under the sink. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why?" Youngbae's voice has an unusually sharp edge to it despite the slur. "That's what you do all the time, right? Break it off with one person, get drunk and find another one? I just thought I'd take a hint from you in how to get over someone."

The words feel like a slap across Jiyong's face, particularly coming from Youngbae's mouth. "What the hell, Youngbae?" he demands.

"Sorry," Youngbae says. "You're right. That's not fair. You don't even always break it off first."

And then Jiyong is the one who slaps Youngbae, but for real, with his hand rather than words. The smack echoes loudly in the little bathroom, and Jiyong's hand burns from the impact, just like he's sure Youngbae's cheek must be burning now, where the red imprint of his hand is already starting to show. Youngbae blinks at him, wide-eyed, looking about as stunned as Jiyong feels. Then he lifts a hand to touch his cheek, and his eyes go half-closed again.

"Fuck you," he snarls, and then he's fumbling with the lock and Jiyong is alone in the bathroom, swallowing down something welling up in his chest that feels an awful lot like panic. 

Jiyong composes himself and leaves the bathroom a few minutes later, and the next hour passes in an unhappy blur. He doesn't dare approach Youngbae again, but shadows him as best he can, sipping on a glass of wine he can't taste and nodding along distractedly to whoever happens to try and talk with him. Youngbae is drifting from group to group at the party, inhaling drinks as he goes and flirting with practically everyone. Mostly everybody humors him—it's obvious he's well past the point of being just drunk—but a few look annoyed, particularly Dara when he plants a wet kiss on the side of her face. Youngbae wisely slides away from her before he can end up on the receiving end of another slap, and Jiyong excuses himself to move on following him at a distance.

"What's up with Youngbae?" Seunghyun asks when Jiyong falls in next to him and Daesung, who are hovering near a tray of appetizers. 

"I guess things didn't go well with Mihyun," Jiyong mutters, eyes still trained on Youngbae as he accepts yet another flute of champagne from a waiter.

Seunghyun hums. "That's too bad." There's a pause while they all watch Youngbae nearly knock over an expensive-looking vase next to a group of concerned caterers, but then he moves on, and Seunghyun turns to Jiyong, forehead scrunched up in concern. "Shouldn't you be doing something?"

Jiyong narrows his eyes at his wine glass and swirls it around absently. "What am I supposed to do? He's being an ass. I can't talk to him like this."

He can feel the heat of Seunghyun and Daesung's eyes burning into him, but Jiyong continues to swirl his wine, refusing to look up. After a few seconds, the heat becomes too much and Jiyong excuses himself again; Youngbae has moved on and is almost out of sight at this point.

As he's struggling to slip past a particularly tight-packed cluster of drunk music executives he'd love to avoid talking to just now, Jiyong realizes with a start he's lost Youngbae. He turns, scanning the room as far as he can see, and is just considering standing on a chair when he spots a flash of unkempt bleached hair disappearing into the bathroom. He hurries after him, crossing his fingers that Youngbae is too drunk to remember to lock the door.

"Youngbae?" Jiyong knocks gently on the door once before trying the handle, which he is relieved to find unlocked just as he'd hoped. Upon slipping inside, he finds Youngbae kneeling on the floor with his forehead resting on the toilet bowl, eyes screwed tightly shut, looking absolutely wrecked. Jiyong clicks the lock on the handle and sets his wine glass next to the sink, hurrying to kneel at Youngbae's side.

"You okay?" he asks, rubbing a gentle circle into Youngbae's back. The touch makes Youngbae jolt as if he'd been asleep, and then he almost immediately gags, leaning directly over the toilet bowl.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, just get it out." He continues rubbing circles as Youngbae vomits, forcing himself to stay at Youngbae's side even though this kind of thing repulses him. He's feeling decidedly sick himself at the sight and smell of everything Youngbae has had to drink in the past few hours coming back up, but he keeps rubbing and whispering reassuring words as best he can until Youngbae's retching stops. Then he leans forward to flush the toilet, which does nothing to deter Youngbae from resting his forehead on it again.

"Here." Jiyong stands, dumping out the contents of his wine glass in the sink and then rinsing it briefly before filling it with water. He kneels back down to the floor and offers it to Youngbae.

Youngbae accepts the glass and first uses it to rinse his mouth, spitting into the toilet bowl. Then he takes a few small sips before blindly handing it back to Jiyong, who sets it somewhere on the floor behind them.

"Feel better?" Jiyong asks.

Youngbae groans and turns his head away from Jiyong's gaze, resting his left cheek on the toilet seat so Jiyong can only see the back of his head. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be." Jiyong starts to rub his back again, more slowly now, up and down.

"No, but really," Youngbae says. It's hard to hear him through the slur in his voice and while his face is turned away, but still he sounds remarkably earnest. "I was—"

"You weren't anything you're not allowed to be," Jiyong says quickly, scooting a little closer. "I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. You have every right to be upset about Mihyun—"

Youngbae interrupts him this time, with a little barking laugh, and finally turns his head back again to gaze through foggy eyes at Jiyong. "Her name's Miyung."

Jiyong grimaces. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Youngbae closes his eyes and furrows his brow, and Jiyong is about to ask if he has to be sick again when he says, barely audible through a sigh, "It doesn't matter. She's not like you."

A spark shoots up Jiyong's arm from where his hand rests on Youngbae's back and he swallows, hard. "What?"

Youngbae's next words are mumbled into the toilet, barely above a whisper, but they seem to ring extra clear in Jiyong's ears somehow. "Why aren't any of them like you?" 

Jiyong feels a sick, familiar twist in his chest and leans in closer, as close as he can, sliding his hand up Youngbae's back to slip into his hair.

"Youngbae," he whispers, kissing the side of Youngbae's head, just above his ear. Youngbae stirs but doesn't otherwise react. "Let's go home."

He calls his driver and helps lead Youngbae carefully, very slowly down the stairs and out the back door of the building, figuring the cool outside air while they wait will do him some good. Youngbae just slumps against him, clinging to the lapel of his jacket, his face buried against Jiyong's shirtfront, until the van arrives, and then slides down horizontally across the seats and pillows his head in Jiyong's lap. He sleeps for the entirety of the drive and seems marginally perplexed when Jiyong finally shakes him awake to tell him they're here.

"Where are we?" Youngbae says, rubbing his eyes with his free hand as Jiyong leads him by the other, pressing his thumb to the security reader in the lobby of his building and then pulling Youngbae past the guard in the second lobby, who nods in recognition of Jiyong and thankfully never asks questions, no matter how many drunk men he drags home.

"My place," Jiyong says, drawing Youngbae into the elevator. The doors close on them, Jiyong presses his thumb to another reader and finds the seventeen button, and Youngbae staggers when the elevator starts to move, so Jiyong pulls him close.

They stay pressed like that as the elevator climbs, sliding slowly past the seventh floor, then tenth, then thirteenth. Somewhere around fifteen Youngbae's hand twitches against Jiyong's, and Jiyong laces their fingers together. Then the doors are opening, and Jiyong is pulling him again, heart beating fast all the way up in his throat. 

Once they're inside, Youngbae just stands and sways for a few seconds. Then, noticing Jiyong removing his shoes, he cautiously starts to bend over to do the same.

"Let me." Jiyong kneels to work Youngbae's laces and Youngbae says nothing, but after a few seconds his fingers slip into Jiyong's hair. Jiyong looks up and Youngbae's eyes are clearer than before, but darker, too, like he's been possessed by something.

_He's still drunk_ , Jiyong reminds himself, biting his lip and wondering if he cares. He forces himself to stand up and take a step back, though, turning toward the kitchen and waving in the direction of his bathroom.

"Go brush your teeth," he says.

"I don't have a toothbrush."

"Use mine." Jiyong doesn't turn around but he can hear Youngbae obey, shuffling across the wide living room slowly and eventually turning on the light and fan in the bathroom.

It's not until Jiyong has been sitting on the couch with two glasses of water waiting for a full five minutes that he realizes Youngbae isn't coming back out. He might not even be in the bathroom anymore—it connects to Jiyong's bedroom through a second door, and Jiyong wonders if Youngbae has already passed out in his bed. He gets up, taking the waters with him, and passes through the bathroom, which is indeed empty, to turn off the light and fan before entering his bedroom.

Youngbae is curled up in Jiyong's bed, just like Jiyong suspected, and for a second Jiyong thinks he really is passed out. But then he stirs under Jiyong's covers, and Jiyong thinks he catches a flash of bare shoulder—did he take his shirt off?—and Youngbae is mumbling something.

"What?" Jiyong says.

"'S nice. Your new place."

"Oh." Jiyong wants to move forward but he can't seem to do anything but stand there. "Thanks."

"Can you turn off the light?"

That spurs Jiyong into action. He flicks the switch and moves toward the left side of the bed, where Youngbae is huddled, to set down the water on the side table.

Youngbae grabs him and pulls him to the bed before he can step away.

"Youngbae," Jiyong says, sharply, almost dropping the second glass but just managing to set it on the table next to the first. Youngbae doesn't reply, just slides a hand up Jiyong's neck and pulls him down again, in, and Jiyong doesn't really need much coaxing to meet his mouth halfway, which thankfully tastes like mint now instead of vodka and bile. The kiss is still sloppy, though, and a little jarring, their teeth and tongues meeting with surprising force.

" _Youngbae_ ," Jiyong says again, more a hiss this time, hot breath ghosting into Youngbae's mouth, but he's not trying very hard to get away. Youngbae's hands are burning on his neck, then scrambling down to the front of Jiyong's jacket, which he obligingly shrugs out of and tosses aside. He's never seen Youngbae look this fierce before and he likes it, likes the way it sets a fire in his stomach and makes his dick jump in his pants. He leans back to continue undressing himself and Youngbae uses the opportunity to push the covers aside. Jiyong almost chokes to find him already naked.

"You're drunk," Jiyong says, sliding forward to straddle Youngbae's lap anyway, dropping one hand to trace Youngbae's abdominal muscles while using the other to finish unbuttoning his shirt. 

"Don't care," Youngbae says. He helps Jiyong jerk the shirt off his shoulders and then mouths at Jiyong's collarbone and neck, hot and messy. It lacks expertise but turns Jiyong on anyway, and he groans and tilts his head back to allow easier access.

"We should wait 'til tomorrow," Jiyong says, voice catching when Youngbae's hands meet his at the fly of his pants, and he lets Youngbae finish unbuttoning them even though his fingers are clumsy. "Oh, _fuck_ ," he adds when Youngbae doesn't hesitate in cupping him through his underwear.

"No more waiting," Youngbae begs. Jiyong's just about to give in and shimmy out of his pants and underwear when Youngbae says, voice quiet, "You won't want me tomorrow."

Jiyong's heart stutters, and for a moment hurts so bad he can't do anything, can't move or breathe or think. Then he catches both Youngbae's hands in his own, pulling them away from his lap, and presses his mouth to them.

"Youngbae," he says, blood pounding in his ears. "I've always wanted you."

Something flickers in Youngbae's eyes. Then they soften, and Jiyong kisses his knuckles before crawling off his lap and tearing his eyes away from Youngbae's naked everything, which is one of the harder things he's ever done.

"We have to wait," he says through gritted teeth.

"But—" Youngbae protests, voice wavering, "—you never wait."

Jiyong faces him again, but keeps his eyes very carefully trained on Youngbae's, refusing to dart any lower. "Exactly," he says.

Youngbae doesn't seem to have a reply to that. Jiyong leans forward to kiss him once more, but gently, just a brush across the lips, and coaxes him back under the covers, sliding up behind to press his chest to Youngbae's back. He determinedly ignores his aching hard-on to wrap arms around Youngbae's waist and burrow his face against his neck. Finally, he feels Youngbae relax against him, incrementally, over the space of several minutes.

"Jiyong," Youngbae whispers, right as Jiyong was beginning to wonder if he was asleep. "We're not just going to pretend nothing happened tomorrow, right?"

"Right," Jiyong says. He hugs Youngbae closer to his chest, and Youngbae sighs, and Jiyong's last thought as he drifts off is that he can't remember the last time he let someone spend the night.

 

It takes a few seconds after Jiyong wakes up for him to remember everything that happened last night, but once he does he's jerked rudely into consciousness. He blinks his eyes open and finds the space in the bed next to him empty, although there's his jacket and shirt still crumpled on the floor, so he knows he didn't just dream everything. There's a sound of running water coming from the kitchen, so he slides out of bed, does up the fly of his pants, and makes his way into the living room, fighting the ridiculous urge to crawl back under the covers and never come out again. He has no idea what he'll do if Youngbae doesn't remember what happened last night, but worse would be if he remembers everything and regrets it.

Youngbae is dressed again, although looking distinctly disheveled in his clothes from the night before, setting a pot of water on the stove. Their eyes meet over the pot, and Jiyong knows right then and there that he remembers. He wonders if the wave of nausea that suddenly hits him is because of drinking or nervousness.

"You don't have a tea kettle," Youngbae says after a beat. 

Jiyong looks away, running a hand through his bedhead. "I'll get one," he says, feeling heat rise to his face inexplicably. "If you think you'll be staying over more often."

It feels like the heaviest question Jiyong has ever asked, and he didn't even ask anything, exactly. After another beat of silence, his eyes cut back to Youngbae.

Youngbae smiles. "Okay."

And then a flood of relief washes over Jiyong, so disconcerting he nearly staggers. He wants to grab Youngbae by the shirt collar and kiss him, wants to drag him to the bed or the couch or the floor and start doing things he's never allowed himself to even think about before, other than in a few rare moments of weakness. He wants to fuck Youngbae and get fucked by him, hard, on the counter and the table and against the wall, so bad he doesn't know why they haven't started already. But just when he takes his first step forward, Youngbae speaks again.

"Do you want tea?"

Jiyong hesitates. Youngbae is busying himself digging through the cupboards, probably looking for tea that isn't expired and a mug that isn't coated with dust on the inside, and Jiyong feels his shoulders start to relax.

"Sure," he says, heading for the table instead of Youngbae, clearing enough papers and other miscellaneous junk away that two people could comfortably sit and have breakfast and talk. They can have sex later. They can have sex anytime they want. Nobody is going anywhere.

He takes a seat at the table and ducks his head to hide the breathless relief he knows must be playing across his face. He folds his hands and rests them in his lap and waits patiently, because he knows eventually Youngbae will come.


End file.
